Recalling Laura Pollán, leader of Cuba's Ladies in White

Cuban
human rights defender Laura Pollán, who died Friday from
respiratory complications at a Havana hospital, fought a mighty battle against
the Cuban government for almost a decade. Pollán, 63, leaves behind her husband,
the award-winning independent journalist Héctor Maseda Gutiérrez, and a daughter.
She also leaves a legacy of determination, courage, and creativity. Her powerful
belief in justice was ultimately rewarded when dozens of wrongly imprisoned dissidents
and journalists, including her husband, were freed from prison over the last
two years, in large part due to her efforts.

Pollán
was a Spanish teacher who hadn't taught for years because the Cuban government had
blackballed her due to her human rights activities. Back in 2003, she had started
a protest group with a number of other Cuban women whose husbands, sons, and
brothers had been arrested during the government's Black Spring
crackdown
on the independent press and dissent. The group was formed to extract information
from Cuban authorities about the imprisonments of 75 journalists and dissidents
on antistate charges. (Maseda Gutiérrez, arrested during the second day of the
crackdown, was sentenced to 20 years in prison
in 2003.)

But
with so many independent journalists and dissidents in prison, Pollán's group quickly
became a force of its own. Inspired by Argentina's Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, who called
attention to relatives who disappeared during the country's military regime, Pollán's
Damas de Blanco (Ladies in
White) held weekly public demonstrations to demand the Cuban government release
the political prisoners. Every Sunday, the Ladies marched from the Church of Santa
Rita down
Havana's Fifth Avenue, dressed in white head to toe, holding pink gladiolas in
their hands. Often, they were harassed by onlookers. At times, they were roughed
up and detained. But they never
relented.

Early
on, Pollán became the group's de facto spokeswoman, and her tiny Old Havana
home the Ladies' headquarters. Each Wednesday afternoon, the Ladies would meet
for what they called a literary gathering. Not all members could attend every
meeting. Cuban authorities or government proxies often blocked members from leaving
their homes or entering Pollán's neighborhood. But the meetings always went
forward. The Ladies who gathered in Pollán's living room discussed their loved
one's health and legal situations, and they debated the group's next political
moves. Often, they had to shout over the amplified music that government supporters
blasted outside as a form of harassment.

Pollán's
home was an impromptu hostel where out-of-town Ladies stayed while they visited
loved ones jailed in Havana, filed legal papers, or attended the Wednesday gatherings.
The house was also an information center for international reporters and human
rights organizations, including the Committee to Protect Journalists. When news
broke in Cuba, Pollán's number was always at the top of the contact list. In a hoarse
voice and thick Caribbean accent, Pollán would give the latest details about an
arrest, a protest, or an inmate's ailment. If she didn't have the answer, Pollán
was always eager to find it--even if the frequent clicks on her line made it clear
that her phone was tapped.

During
the time her husband and more than two dozen other journalists were in prison,
Pollán worked with CPJ to get small grants to the families of those journalists
who most needed it. Every month, she helped us identify journalists with
serious health conditions or families struggling to find the necessary funds to
travel to a far prison. Every year, she helped CPJ compile details of prison
conditions and new arrests that helped us maintain a clear picture of
repression against the island's press. Pollán's work with CPJ's Journalist Assistance program made
the Cuba project one of our most effective.

Pollán was moved when we called to say that her husband, still jailed at the time, was
a recipient of a CPJ 2008
International Press Freedom Award. In a brief note to CPJ, she said she
felt proud of being his wife. Pollán said that she believed the award was not
only for Maseda Gutiérrez but for all Cuban journalists "who risk their lives
to inform what's going on in Cuba and outside prison walls."

In
February of this year, after seven years behind bars, Maseda Gutiérrez was released from jail and was
able to return home to his beloved wife. He was among the last of the 29 journalists
originally jailed in the Black Spring to be freed. Shortly after his return, Pollán
wrote for the CPJ Blog
about her experiences.

"Sometimes they tell us, the Ladies in White, that we are brave women," she
wrote. "We disagree: We've simply experienced so much pain and love that,
without realizing it, we crossed that line between fear and bravery."

Carlos Lauría, CPJ's program director and senior program coordinator for the Americas, is a widely published journalist. A native of Buenos Aires, he has written extensively for Noticias, the leading Spanish-language newsmagazine. Follow him on Facebook @ CPJ en Español.